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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677783">Reclaimed Legacy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonsOfLothal/pseuds/MoonsOfLothal'>MoonsOfLothal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Parent Din Djarin, Mandalorian Boba Fett, Mandalorian armor, Protective Boba Fett, Protective Cara Dune, Protective Din Djarin, Soft Boba Fett, Soft Din Djarin, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:34:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonsOfLothal/pseuds/MoonsOfLothal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Boba Fett and Din Djarin restore the armor that the Mandalorian got from Cobb Vanth. Set in between Chapters 14 and 15.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>129</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Reclaimed Legacy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Din made his way to the landing fields, his footsteps quick and eager to get back to the <em>Slave 1</em> where it rested just outside the town’s gates. Each stop they had to make, each careful step of a larger plan to rescue the kid, made him want to yell in frustration. What he wanted to do more than anything was rush headlong into a fight with Gideon so he could get Grogu back as quickly as possible. There was no way of knowing what the Moff wanted with the kid, and Din’s mind would often drift to the terrible scenarios he imagined, images of a hurt and terrified Grogu flitting through his mind’s eye.</p><p>But he couldn’t rush anywhere. He couldn’t go after the kid. He didn’t even know where the Moff’s light cruiser was. That’s why he was back here, on Nevarro, in the first place. He needed Cara’s help to locate Mayfeld in the New Republic’s prison system, since the man could have ended up on any one of a thousand different planets after Din had locked him in that cell with the others.</p><p>He never thought he’d need Migs Mayfeld’s help, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he still didn’t want it. It wasn’t just what he’d pulled on the mission to free Qin from the New Republic prison transport. It was the fact that he was a former Imperial sharpshooter. Going to an enemy to persuade him to help them find his former employers? Din was more than a little worried that the man would lead them right into a trap. But he didn’t have another choice. Mayfeld was the only person he knew of who could navigate the Imperial network.</p><p>“You look like you need a drink, Mando,” Fennec called softly, even if there was a hint of sarcasm lacing her words. He looked up to find her sitting on the ramp that led down from the <em>Slave 1</em>’s interior. She gave him another once over, an eyebrow raising. “Although maybe a nap would be better for you.”</p><p>He sighed as he came to the bottom of the ramp, stopping and looking up at her through his visor. “I slept on the trip here, you know that.”</p><p>“And yet, you still look like you’re about to fall over,” she mused, smirking.</p><p>Din rolled his eyes beneath the helmet, sighing inwardly. If he’d known he was going to have to put up with this much sarcasm and pestering from Fennec, he might have elected to stay behind on Tython. He shook his head, lowering it as he did to look at the ground beneath his feet. No. No, he would have taken any deal to get off that rock.</p><p>“Was your marshal able to find the man you’re looking for?” Fennec asked, her voice softer as she changed the subject gently.</p><p>“Yes,” he said, bringing his attention back to her. “He’s not that far, but we’ll have to be careful about how we get him out. He’s in the Karthon Chop Fields, surrounded by armed sentry droids. Could get messy.”</p><p>“It’s not going to have to get messy,” Cara piped up from beside him, resting her bag on the ground along with the gun she’d picked out from Din’s arsenal all those months ago when they’d fought Moff Gideon’s forces the first time. Seeing it brought back…unpleasant memories.</p><p>Fennec quirked an eyebrow up, silently asking for an explanation. Cara smiled, “At least, it shouldn’t have to get messy. As a marshal of the New Republic I can remand prisoners into my custody. With the transition of power to the New Republic still being largely contested by the remnants of the Empire here in the Outer Rim those of us lucky enough to have a marshal’s badge are allowed to take prisoners away for a short time to gather information from them, see if they know anything. I’ll be bending a lot of rules, but…I can get him out without anyone being suspicious.”</p><p>The assassin tilted her head and smiled mischievously. “That’s handy.” She gestured to Cara’s bag and stood, waving a hand toward the interior of the ship. “Come on. I’ll show you where you can stash your gear.”</p><p>Cara nodded, picking up her things again. She shot him a look of support, then stepped up the ramp to follow Fennec, the two immediately starting up a conversation. Din wasn’t surprised that the two had instantly connected and found common ground without even sharing their stories. They both had that quiet sense of constant readiness, like they were just waiting for the next fight to come along so they could jump back into the thick of the action.</p><p>Din shook his head, scanning their surroundings quietly, a habit he’d picked up a long time ago out of necessity. Now it was simply second nature. “Hey,” he called up to Fennec, who stopped mid-sentence and turned back to him at the top of the ramp, waiting for the question to follow. “Where’s Fett?”</p><p>She pointed toward the gate at the entrance of the town. “Said he needed to pick up some supplies and that he’d be back shortly.”</p><p>Din nodded and she continued the conversation she’d been having, the two women disappearing deeper into the ship. He turned his attention back to the town, scanning for Fett. He wasn’t worried about the bounty hunter in the slightest, but he needed something to occupy his time. He didn’t want to get in the way of Cara and Fennec, nor did he want to sit in the <em>Slave 1</em> awkwardly, so he stayed right where he was at the base of the ramp, keeping watch. He let his mind wander, feeling entirely out of place.</p><p>His home was gone. The <em>Razorcrest</em> may have been just one more ship in a large galaxy full of them, and it may been old and a little stubborn, but it was home. Everything he’d had had been in that ship when it had been torn apart. His weapons, most of his credits, the few relics of the past he’d kept around for sentiment’s sake. He hadn’t had much out of necessity; the life of a bounty hunter meant constant movement and minimal possessions, the easier to pick up and move at the slightest hint of danger. Even still, he almost felt like he’d lost pieces of his armor. Maybe he had, in a sense.</p><p>An insistent tapping on his leg drew him back to himself.</p><p>“Kid, what-”</p><p>His voice died in his throat as he looked down and saw only his cape slapping against his clothing forcefully, thanks to the sudden wind that rushed through the air around him. He stared at the spot next to his leg where the kid normally stood, that empty spot in his heart slowly widening. His home and his kid were both gone. What would Gideon manage to take from him next? His creed? His armor?</p><p><em>I would lay both down willingly if it meant I could get Grogu back.</em> Din was a little shocked to hear the voice inside him immediately answer in such a way. He closed his eyes at the sudden moisture that he felt pooling in the corners of his eyes. Yes. If it meant getting Grogu back safely, he would lay everything down in order to make it happen. Anything for the kid.</p><p>“Djarin?” A gravelly voice preceded the hand that came to rest lightly on his shoulder. “You okay under that shiny helmet of yours?” The words were sincere, the hand an unexpected anchor.</p><p>He opened his eyes and turned to look at Fett, the man’s face also concealed beneath the chipped paint of his own helmet, but his concern clear. Din nodded, and Fett squeezed his shoulder before releasing his hold.</p><p>He tilted his head toward the interior of the ship. “Your marshal get the coordinates of the man we’re after?”</p><p>“She did,” Din said, his words low and broken thanks to the emotion that had clogged his throat only seconds before.</p><p>“She on board?” he asked, and Din nodded once more. Fett’s feet carried him up the ramp and onto his ship, the bag slung over his back coming into view for the first time. “Then let’s go get your kid,” the words were low and resolved, anger bleeding through them. Din didn’t know what kind of history Fett had with the Empire, but part of him never wanted to know the answer to that question.</p><p>He followed the other Mandalorian, feeling a measure of safety for the first time since they’d landed on Nevarro as the door closed behind them. Cara and Fennec were sitting nearby, next to the console, pouring over detailed holo images of the Karthon Chop Fields. They turned to look at the two Mandalorians as they entered the ship, their conversation dying softly. Cara stared at Fett for a few moments, measuring the bounty hunter, the stare mirrored by Fett, who broke the silence first, “You must be the marshal.”</p><p>Cara smiled, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. Din could tell she didn’t trust the other Mandalorian just yet. “And you must be Boba Fett.”</p><p>Fett only nodded, his helmet dipping ever so slightly. He pointed towards the hologram the two had displayed, the soft, flickering blue light falling over the console. “That where we’re headed?”</p><p>Cara nodded, looking back to the hologram. “Karthon Chop Fields. Quite a few systems away, unfortunately.”</p><p>“Do we have a plan?” Fett asked.</p><p>“That’s the fun part,” Fennec smirked. “Cara here can just walk in and take him. No heavy lifting required.”</p><p>The bounty hunter chuckled, a low, grating sound. “That’ll be a change. Though I don’t know what’s fun about that.” He made his way to the ladder that led to the cockpit. “Better strap yourselves in,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the upper level of the ship.</p><p>Din sat in the chair nearest to Cara, all three of them making themselves ready for the climb through the atmosphere and for the jump into hyperspace. “Are you sure you can just walk in and take him?” he directed the question to Cara.</p><p>She nodded, a smile full of pride coming to life across her features. “Positive. Perks of the job, I guess.”</p><p>He hoped it really was this simple. Even though Din knew that the four of them could easily spring Mayfeld from prison, he’d rather not call attention to themselves. Based on his run-in with the New Republic a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t find any friends if they got caught.</p><p>He leaned his head back against his seat as the <em>Slave 1</em> rose into the air, the internal mechanics already rotating, making sure its passengers stayed level. As soon as they settled into place, the ship rocketed into the upper atmosphere quickly, coming to rest just outside a hyperspace lane as Fett punched in the coordinates for the chop fields. “Get ready for hyperspace,” Fett called across the ship’s comm unit. “Jumping…now.”</p><p>The shifting blue streaks of hyperspace replaced the stars as the ship’s hyperdrive engines engaged. The ever-changing view used to make Din sick when he was younger, but he’d long since grown used to the unsettling nature of traveling faster than light speed.</p><p>“Huh,” Cara nodded in approval as she took another look around the ship’s interior. “Nice ship.”</p><p>“Wait until you see the firepower this thing is capable of,” Fennec said, raising her eyebrows. “The weapons package on this ship is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah? I’ve seen some pretty heavily armed ships before.” Cara almost seemed to dare Fennec to impress her.</p><p>“Anything with seismic charges?”</p><p>“He has seismic charges on this thing?” Cara sat up straight in her seat, the expression on her face bordering on manic glee, even if it was the happiest Din had ever seen her while discussing weapons.</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Fennec smirked, the conversation quickly devolving into their knowledge of various weapons in the galaxy and how rare each one was.</p><p>Din just closed his eyes and settled back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, more than content to let them carry any and all conversation for the duration of the trip. If they weren’t on their way to get information about where the kid might be, he’d probably join in the fun; right now, though, his heart just wasn’t in it. He wasn’t at all tired, but since Fett hadn’t come back down yet there really was nothing for him to do but rest.</p><p>He’d just managed to find a comfortable position when the ship’s comm system activated. “Djarin, I need you up here,” came Fett’s gravelly voice.</p><p>Din didn’t bother replying, just extricated himself from the seat and climbed the ladder that led into the cockpit, the conversation behind him never stopping for even a moment. He reached the top and turned, surprised to find that Fett had stripped himself of his armor and had it laid out neatly in front of where he was sitting behind the pilot’s chair, the flak vest it had been attached to flung to the side.</p><p><em>Said he needed to pick up some supplies….</em> His earlier conversation with Fennec came to mind, and he stepped closer to see just what, exactly, Fett had brought back with him from the town on Nevarro. The scars on his face crinkled as Fett smiled and laughed softly. “Not what you were expecting, based on your body language.”</p><p>“Not really, no,” Din said as he settled into a comfortable position near the other Mandalorian, his eyes roving over the beskar that littered the floor. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. I’d be doing the same thing if the armor were mine.”</p><p>Fett nodded, his eyes darkening slightly. “Cobb Vanth didn’t truly know what he was wearing. If he had, he would have shown it the proper respect.”</p><p>While Din agreed, he felt compelled to say something in Vanth’s defense. “No, but he’s a good man. Gave the armor to me without a fight after we killed the Krayt Dragon. Not many would do that.”</p><p>“I know,” Fett said, that soft smile back on his face. “I watched you take it from him.”</p><p>Din turned towards Fett, a question already on his lips. “Then why not approach me while I was still on Tatooine? Why wait so long to reclaim your armor?”</p><p>Fett looked to him, raising his eyebrows. Or rather, where his eyebrows should have been. Din absentmindedly wondered how the man had gotten the scars that marred his features, but pushed the question away immediately. “I didn’t know who you were, who I was dealing with. I may be a good bounty hunter, a good tracker, but I didn’t get that good because I was stupid. I always research my targets before approaching them. In your case, I had a little chat with Cobb Vanth after you’d left.”</p><p>Inside his helmet, it was Din’s turn to raise an eyebrow.</p><p>“He told me most of what I needed to know, but I tracked you back to a hangar in Mos Eisley and had another chat with your mechanic friend Peli. So, I followed you from system to system, learning how you operated, how you thought.”</p><p>Din couldn’t help but be impressed. He nodded, “That was a good plan.”</p><p>Fett took the praise, bowing his head slightly. “You pick up a few things when you’ve been doing this job as long as I have.”</p><p>“I know the feeling.”</p><p>“But I didn’t call you up here to chat about bounty hunting.” He gestured to the armor in front of them. “We have about ten hours before we’ll reach the Karthon Chop Fields. I want to get this armor repaired before we get there. Should be more than enough time.”</p><p>Din nodded. “What do you need me to do?”</p><p>“Here,” Fett handed him a tool. “This should be sufficient to burn the paint off so I can begin again.”</p><p>Din took it, immediately igniting the flame that sputtered from the end. He picked up the nearest piece of armor and got to work, hardly hearing Fett as he said, “I’ll try my best to rewire and refit the mountings on the back of the armor.”</p><p>They worked in near silence for a few hours, both of them intent on their respective jobs, only speaking when they needed a tool that the other had. It was easy work, even if it was time-consuming, and Din felt himself relaxing more and more with each minute that passed. Before he knew it, the beskar armor before him was spotless, the metal gleaming brightly in the glow of hyperspace. Fett looked it over approvingly, reaching into the bag he’d brought from Nevarro and bringing out a compressed container of paint. “Now for the fun part,” he grinned at Din and bent over his armor, carefully repainting each section to his own tastes.</p><p>Din didn’t interrupt him as he did so, knowing that painting one’s armor was a very personal thing. He hadn’t bothered to paint his beskar armor like he had with the armor he’d worn before. He’d just never had the time to devote to painting it since he’d stolen the kid back from the Imperials, and as time passed the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He wasn’t sure if he would ever bother painting it, now that so much time had passed. There was something about a clean set of armor that Din found comforting, anyway.</p><p>He looked over the armor scattered across the cockpit floor, pleased to see that it was mostly done and dry. The only thing left was Fett’s helmet, and he was already halfway finished with it, by the looks of it. Another thirty minutes or so and Fett took a step away, sitting back down next to Din as he let his helmet cure. The smile that lit the man’s scarred features seemed almost childlike to Din, as if this was something that brought back fond memories of a childhood long since passed. “It looks good,” Din remarked, enjoying the fresh look the green, red, and yellow paints brought to the armor. He never would have suspected that the armor could look this nice, not after the way it had looked previously, all dented and scarred, the paint chipped and peeling.</p><p>“I’m glad you approve,” Fett smiled, his voice genuine.</p><p>“Need me to grab the flak vest?” Din asked.</p><p>“No, I purchased another.” Fett gestured to the bag from Nevarro, and Din could see black fabric just barely poking out of the flap at the top. “As good a man as Cobb Vanth is, I can’t continue to wear something that no longer belongs solely to me. The armor…it feels like it’s mine again, finally.” He turned to face Din. “Thank you, again, for its return.”</p><p>He held up a hand. “You don’t have to keep doing that, Fett. Once was enough.” Though Din understood why the man kept thanking him. If his armor had been lost for that long, and then had been returned to him, he would be equally as grateful to the man that had been able to give it back to him.</p><p>Fett only chuckled and glanced at the control panels of his ship, reading the data displayed on the screens there before standing and offering a hand to Din. He took it, and was pulled to his feet gently. “We best get down to the cargo area and grab a few hours of rest before we make it to the chop fields. No telling what might happen after we spring this sharpshooter of yours.”</p><p>Din nodded, climbing down the ladder with no objections, Fett right behind him. He turned to find that Cara and Fennec had already had the same idea, both of them laid out on the floor in front of their chairs with blankets across their bodies, their arms under their heads. They didn’t so much as stir as Din and Fett joined them. Din walked over to his chair and laid in front of it, enjoying the prospect of not having to sleep in the chair. He put an arm under his helmet and got comfortable as Fett moved to sit in the chair next to the console, making sure their course through hyperspace was still set and that all alarms were active, just in case.</p><p>Din closed his eyes, not caring what the man was doing, his exhaustion upon lying down and getting completely still weighing on him heavily. The cold of the metal against his side was slowly seeping through his clothing, but he couldn’t be bothered to get up and grab one of the other blankets, his limbs already weighed down with the drowsiness that comes before a deep sleep.</p><p>Right before he slipped into sleep, he heard Fett get up from the chair at the console, his steps coming closer to him. Before he could rouse himself and wonder what the other Mandalorian needed, he felt heavy fabric settle over his body, the chill brought on from the cool floor evaporating almost immediately. The sudden warmth made his body relax completely, and Din welcomed the sleep that fell over him.</p><p>~~~</p><p>An alarm blared through the <em>Slave 1</em>, alerting its passengers to their imminent drop out of hyperspace. Din was awake in seconds, his eyes slowly coming to focus on the floor in front of him. The noise continued for a few more moments before it was abruptly cut off. Seconds later, the swirling blue of hyperspace faded away and was replaced with the constant light of the sun in the system they’d just dropped into.</p><p>“Welcome to the Karthon Chop Fields,” Fett’s voice came through the ship’s comms.</p><p>Din immediately sat up, frowning at the blanket that fell from his shoulders. When had he…and then he remembered. Fett. Right before he’d fallen asleep, the other Mandalorian had draped it over him. He was immediately humbled by the gesture, and he folded the blanket as he stood, placing it back where it belonged as Cara and Fennec roused themselves and did the same.</p><p>“Better strap yourselves in,” Fett’s voice rang through the ship again, and Din looked out of the viewport to see a planet rapidly approaching. They’d be in the atmosphere soon.</p><p>Now that they were here, he was eager to get Mayfeld and get the current coordinates of Moff Gideon’s light cruiser. The kid was that much closer.</p><p>He looked to Cara as they strapped themselves in their respective chairs, asking softly, “Are you ready for this?” The angry gaze that met his took him aback for a moment, before he realized the anger was not directed at him.</p><p>“Yeah. I’m more than ready.”</p><p>Fennec laughed softly. “Where did this sudden anger come from, marshal?”</p><p>“I had a nightmare about the kid,” Cara explained quietly. There was fire in her eyes when she said, “The Imperials we come across better watch themselves. New Republic marshal or not, I’m not in a very forgiving mood at the moment. If Mayfeld does anything to jeopardize this…” Her voice trailed off, the implied threat not needing any further explanation.</p><p>A slight shudder ran through the ship as they touched down, and the ramp lowered onto a world trashed with the remnants of Imperial and Rebel starfighters alike. All manner of Imperial and Rebel machines lay scattered about, their metal sides covered in dirt and rust. As he unstrapped himself and stood closer to the ramp, Din could see prisoners of several different species hard at work dismantling the wreckage.</p><p>“Be right back,” Cara said lowly, walking down the ramp to greet the New Republic security droid that had come to inspect the sentients that had just landed a ship in its jurisdiction. The two exchanged words, and then it was leading Cara off into the mounds of discarded weaponry, a baton held at its side.</p><p>Fett came down the ladder then, outfitted in his new flak vest and freshly painted armor. Din smiled beneath the helmet as he took a step back to allow Fett some room to maneuver. The bounty hunter reached into a nearby compartment and pulled out a gun, which he quickly moved into a defensive position, even if it looked to the untrained eye as if the gun were merely resting in his hands.</p><p>“Nice upgrade,” Fennec’s eyebrows were raised, clearly impressed.</p><p>Fett only nodded in her direction, the helmet dipping ever so slightly.</p><p>Din had to agree with Fennec. The man had been intimidating enough without the armor. When he’d dropped into the middle of the battle with those stormtroopers, the paint chipping off the beskar, the metal appearing almost mottled, that intimidation factor had managed to somehow go up a few notches. Now, with the amor looking refreshed, the paint crisp, the black of the flak vest matching the black of his robes? Din was very glad that Fett was on his side.</p><p>They saw Cara coming back their way, leading a complaining prisoner behind her.</p><p>Mayfeld.</p><p>Fett and Fennec went out to meet her, but Din stayed back for a moment, watching the former sharpshooter coming towards him. His face paled slightly as he noticed Fett walking down the ramp toward him, the confidence and menace with which the bounty moved now increased tenfold because of the armor that was back where it belonged.</p><p>A reclaimed legacy passed down to him from his father before him.</p><p>Din sighed and stepped forward, almost relishing the face Mayfeld made when he realized who was coming down the ramp. Time to get this over with.</p>
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